


Lovers & Lies

by lvfics



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Casual Sex, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, No Plot/Plotless, Private Investigators, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25751617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvfics/pseuds/lvfics
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is a private investigator, hired to dig up dirt on broken marriages and crooked businessmen. Ten years of this life has taught her that men are not to be trusted, so when she meets Peeta, the broad-shouldered bakery owner who falls madly for her, she is determined not to let him into her heart.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	1. Cheese buns

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly, with the pandemic I really don't have the energy to write something very plot heavy and involved. My attention span is waning and I'm not interested in anything more complex than an episode of GBBO. So consider this my version of cozy, fluffy and sweet (but with smut). 
> 
> With that said, this is the only chapter with any semblance of plot. I felt it necessary just to set up their world but moving forward, every future installment will be pure, unadulterated smut. Hopefully will be posting once per week.

Men will always let you down. That’s the conclusion Katniss had come to after a decade as a private investigator. Men are liars or cheaters. Some are both. None are to be trusted. And that suited her just fine. As long as there was deception, she had a job to do. 

She didn’t usually take small jobs from desperate women. If a woman suspected her husband’s infidelity enough to pay the exorbitant fee for an investigation, then the marriage was probably already doomed. It meant she was looking for something nefarious to justify leaving him.

Haymitch Abernathy keeps her on retainer for his law firm and a few other businesses require her services for background checks on new hires. It’s not incredibly lucrative but it keeps her busy, pays the bills and allows her to turn down the desperate housewives.

Something about Annie Cresta was different though. She wasn’t married to the man she suspected of cheating on her. She hadn’t even said she suspected him of cheating, just acting differently than usual; working late and sneaking out sometimes at night. There was concern in her tone when she told Katniss her suspicions, not like the usual wives whose words were weighed heavy with disdain.

That’s how Katniss found herself driving along the sleepy suburban street where Finnick Odair worked. His office was an old printing press that had been converted into office space. Because of the city’s historical building ordinances, most of the businesses had been preserved in this fashion. Odd considering not even a century ago, all of this land was simply orange groves. Katniss always thought it was a particularly ugly style of architecture to work so hard to preserve.

But that’s what Finnick does, apparently. From her parked car she watches him pull a briefcase out of his front seat and quickly jaywalk across the street to a bakery on the corner. Emerging not even five minutes later with a tray of four coffees and a grease-stained pastry bag balanced carefully on top, he jaywalks once again before disappearing into the architectural office.

Armed for a stake out, Katniss eyes the bakery and strolls inside, taking in the beautiful pastry cases stacked with scones and muffins. It’s not like the usual puffy pink bakeries that look like dollhouses. This place is almost industrial in it’s outfitting. 

Unfinished planks of wood sit on overturned apple crates and concrete bricks serve as makeshift benches. Round tables of birchwood are spread throughout, easy to lift and move. It looks like one of those modern hot desk offices. The back wall features open shelving and metal camping dishes. A long steel table makes up the bar, featuring rows of pastries on wooden boards behind a shield of glass.

“Can I help you?” a kind voice piped up from behind the counter.

She jumps a bit, having been captured by the sweet aroma. When she looks up, she’s staring at the deep blue eyes of the baker. A rolling steel rack of raw pastry behind him, he wipes the flour of his hands with his apron.

“Everything is so beautiful,” she tells him. “Which one tastes the best?”

“Depends,” he replies. “What do you like?”

“Something savory?” she asks, looking around. “I haven’t had breakfast.”

“Egg sandwich?” he offers. She nods eagerly, a smile crossing her lips for the first time in days. “Anything to drink?”

“Hot chocolate?” she asks, glancing up at the menu.

“You got it. Can I get a name?” He gestures for her to take a seat. “For the order?”

“Katniss,” she replies, almost a whisper.

Intrigued by the playfulness of the baker, she does as told, selecting a corner bench beneath the front window, which offers a perfect view of Finnick’s office. She settles in, pulling out a laptop from her bag. With a whole day of sleuthing, she may as well make some progress on her other cases.

It’s only a few minutes later when the baker returns, carrying a tin plate and matching mug, piled high with whipped cream. He sets it on the table in front of her, out of the way from her laptop.

“Thank you,” Katniss says, looking up to catch his smile. “What do I owe you?”

“On the house,” he says before returning to his work behind the bar.

Stunned, Katniss doesn’t even know how to respond. But he hardly gives her a chance before wheeling the rack of sheet pans out of sight. She can hear him working in the back, presumably baking fresh pastries, now that the cases are half empty. And in his absence, she returns to her work.

But not before taking a bite of the warm sandwich in front of her. Four crisp strips of bacon are balanced on a fried egg, dripping with melty yellow cheese over a layer of mashed avocado. All of it encased in a fluffy white bun with even more cheese baked on top. It tastes heavenly. She eats as if entranced by the flavors, letting the runny yolk drip on her hands before licking her fingers clean.

She almost forgets why she’s sitting in a coffee shop opposite a target until she polishes off the last bite with a long sip of warm chocolate. Now full and satisfied, she gives Finnick’s office a quick glance before returning to the files in front of her. Running a few simple background checks turns up nothing out of ordinary so she digs deeper to quash any uncertainty before marking those complete. All the while customers circulate in and out, none bothering to take a seat. She likes that. Makes it feel like her own private office.

Most of her work is like this now. Everything is available online, databases full of it. If someone behaves dishonestly, it always leaves a paper trail; bank statements, real estate holdings, social media accounts. They hold all the secrets. Some simply require a little more digging than others. It’s become second nature to her now, even running regular checks on herself to ensure her own secrets are buried deep. It’s so mechanical she hardly notices herself doing it now but then there it is.

Peeta Gramm Mellark. His driver’s license photo stares back at her, remarkably flattering for a government ID. The sparkle in his blue eyes captured perfectly. A quick fall down the rabbit hole reveals a traffic violation from six years ago, two parking tickets and some outstanding student loan debt. Very little to report.

And then a figure from across the street catches her eye and she slams her laptop shut before placing forty dollars on the table, weighed down by the mug. She always leaves a hefty tip when spending an entire afternoon in a coffee shop. Seems only fair when she’s using it as free office space, but especially so when the owner comps her meal.

Wasting no time, she runs to her car and follows behind Finnick at a safe distance. So far the man has been seemingly normal but he does something incredibly peculiar. After circling the block, he pulls into the parking lot of a hotel, cuts the engine and simply sits in his car. Katniss watches from a distance, waiting for someone to approach, for him to get out. Anything even the slightest bit indicative of infidelity but nothing happens. And after nearly four hours, he turns the car back on and pulls out.

After his peculiar trip to a hotel parking lot, there’s a stop at the post office where he drops off a handful of thick envelopes followed by a quick run into a gourmet market for flowers and enough groceries to fill a small sack. He ends up at the home address Annie had given her. Nothing to report there. Parked at a safe distance, she cracks the window enough to hear a car turn but lets herself drift to sleep in preparation for a long night. 

It’s dark when she stirs awake and a quick glance at her watch tells her it’s nearly eleven. Finnick’s car is still in the driveway so she knows she hasn’t missed much. Probably just the usual dinner and small talk between couples, not that she had any experience in that department but it couldn’t possibly be difficult to imagine.

Hours pass before someone emerges and Katniss catches Finnick half jogging out of the house in a dark hoodie and jeans. It’s freezing at this early hour and she can see his exhales forming clouds with every breath. He gets in the car and she follows for the twenty minute drive to the port and sees fishing boats loaded at the docks. Men in rain coats load equipment on the boats using only a couple flood lights as illumination. 

From her stakeout, she watches Finnick run over to catch up with the men, carrying twice as much and playfully joking with them all. Pulling a camera from her glove compartment, she snaps a few photos to present to Annie later. 

The sky is at it’s darkest when they begin untying their lines and load out. Katniss waits until she can barely see the boats, certain that Finnick is miles offshore, before grabbing a leather jacket from her backseat and a tracker out of the glove box. She wraps the coat tightly around herself to shield from the swift winds and then bolts for Finnick’s car to place the tracker out of sight. So far his behavior is out of the ordinary, but not sinister. There’s no use losing a whole night of sleep to wait for him to return but in order to be thorough, she should keep an eye on his location for the next few days. 

And so, once the tracker is activated, she sets the alerts on her phone and drives home. It’s a short drive at this hour, no traffic. Barely another soul on the road. Back at home, she trudges up the three sets of steps to her apartment, shedding her layers as she nears the door. With the door safely locked behind her, Katniss kicks off her shoes, discarding her clothes in a messy pile before flopping onto the bed in a heap of exhaustion.


	2. Cinnamon & Dill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing up her case on Finnick, Katniss stumbles back into Peeta's cafe.

After a week of monitoring Finnick’s movements and noticing a sizable payment to a jewelry shop, Katniss comes to the conclusion that his secret night shifts on the fishing boat were to generate income to purchase a ring. And for the first time in ten years she decides that Finnick might be the exception. So she presents her findings to Annie, careful not to divulge the surprise of an impending engagement. Besides, it’s never her job to present theories, just facts.

So with the Finnick case all wrapped up, she heads back into town, eyeing him from a distance as he dips out of the bakery across from his office. Once he’s inside, she ventures toward his car, careful to remain unnoticed, to retrieve her tracking device before he finds it and gets unnecessarily suspicious. 

With the tracker safely back in her possession, Katniss skitters to her car, but not before catching a whiff of spiced apples and cinnamon. Just the hint of it draws her to that crafty little bakery on the corner and she finds herself crossing the street without even thinking. 

Shifting her bag on her shoulder, she ventures inside, eyes landing on the staunch baker carrying two sacks of grain over one shoulder. He turns to her, flashing a smile.

“Be right with you, Katniss!”

She squirms when she hears her name, but then softens. It sounds pretty coming from his lips, almost comfortable. And then she scans the pastry cases, the scent of spiced apples even stronger now that she’s inside. The fritters catch her eye, calling to her like a siren, and prompt a low growl from her stomach. She remembers she hasn’t eaten since the candy bar at lunch the day before.

“So,” Peeta pops up from the back, “anything I can get you?”

“The fritters smell amazing!” she tells him, trying desperately to ignore the grumbling in her stomach. “But I feel like I should eat something of sustenance before I load up on sugar.”

“How much time do you have?” he asks, lips curling into a smile.

Her lower lip finds its way between her teeth and she checks her nonexistent watch for the time before responding.

“As long as it takes.”

“You trust me?” he asks. She nods. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a few.”

Surprising herself, Katniss obliges, staking out the same corner seat beneath the bright window. This time she isn’t weighed down with a laptop or a case, in fact, she surprisingly has nothing in the works today, so she leans back and watches the quiet street.

From the kitchen she hears him slicing and stirring. Slowly the scent of freshly sliced dill and melting butter fills the air and her mouth waters. It’s almost twenty minutes before the baker reappears, balancing three plates on one arm and a steaming mug in the other hand. With a smile, he sets everything down on the table. An open faced sandwich with poached eggs balanced on top of soft, pink salmon, another plate has thin pancakes rolled tightly around berry jam and frothy cream, and the third small plate presents an apple fritter, so warm steam still floats from it.

“How much do you think I can eat?” she asks with a laugh, gesturing to the feast in front of her.

“Sorry,” a sheepish grin escapes. “It’s slow this time of day and I felt inspired.”

“Is it slow enough for you to join me?” she asks, barely believing the words flowing from her own mouth.

“Sure, I’ve got time,” he says, grabbing a nearby chair and plopping down across from her.

Katniss sits silently while he explains the dishes, answering her questions about smells and spices. And it tastes better than it smells. She’s almost embarrassed at the sounds she makes with each bite, enjoying every last morsel. Almost an hour passes before they finish, plates wiped clean, reclining in their seats.

“That’s the best breakfast I have ever had,” Katniss says. “You’re an artist.”

“If you like that,” he says, “you should try what I make for dinner.”

“What?”

“That was cheesy,” he says. “I’m asking you out. I’d like to have dinner with you, Katniss.”

There is it again. Her name, dripping with sweetness the way he drags out the last letters. She can’t even remember the last time someone has asked her on a date. In fact, she has probably never been on a date in her life. Just late nights with sex. Definitely no dinners with incredible chefs, or incredible food, or even incredible sex.

“Okay,” she says, cracking a smile, “I’d like that.”

“Tonight?” he asks, almost too eagerly.

“Tonight works.”

And that’s how they agree to meet back at the bakery when he closes up around seven. With a goodbye, that’s only a little bit awkward, Katniss turns on her heel and heads to her car. For a moment she considers going home to change but it’s not like anything in her closet is different than what she’s already wearing. Save for a couple of elegant dresses, reserved exclusively for weddings, she basically lives in her leather jacket and dark jeans. Besides, something tells her Peeta won’t be any more impressed by her in a different outfit.

More importantly, she doesn’t even know if she wants to impress him. All she really wants is to fuck him. And maybe another one of his apple fritters. Two apple fritters actually. For a second she considers reneging on the date because if it goes badly she surely will not step foot in that bakery, thus renouncing the best baked goods she has ever eaten. Thinking quickly she checks her phone only to breathe a sigh of relief when she sees they deliver. Then her phone rings, thankfully bringing her back to reality and away from the frivolous thoughts of dating and breakfast.

“Haymitch, what do you have?” she asks, recognizing the number.

“You close to the office?” he asks. “We’ve got a big case and I need you to work fast on this one.”

“Give me...uh…” she pauses to check the GPS app on her phone, “...thirty minutes.”

He offers a grunt in response and she takes that as her cue to hang up. Traffic is light so she makes it in twenty, parking on the road outside his ancient office. Inside, desks are piled high with manila folders, so dense it looks like a maze. Once she suggested to Haymitch that he clean up the place and go digital. Old school he had said and she got the point. Her methods were analog more often than not, too. That’s why they worked so well together.

“I need some real dirt on this one, Everdeen,” he says, not bothering with the formalities. “We’re up against the wall with this prenup and, unless you can prove this guy is a criminal, she gets nothing. I don’t even think she can cover my fee with this settlement.”

“What about my fee?” she asks.

“Have I ever let you down?” he kicks back. Touché. “Just find something and we’ll both get paid.”

“You got it.”

She grabs the file and excuses herself wordlessly. Haymitch doesn’t usually throw her a curveball. Most of his clients are the ex wives and Katniss is a pro at digging up dirt on men. Experience has taught her where to look. Even Haymitch has a few skeletons in his closet. Everyone does, but women are either less guilty or better at hiding it.

Once at home she does the usual checks on the target and they turn up nothing. Haymitch wasn’t joking about this guy being a tough nut to crack. His record was spotless but she had a few ethical angles she could tackle in the morning. She’d have to go over the prenup and pinpoint the loopholes but right now her thoughts strayed to the baker. His arms. That smile that makes his eyes sparkle, like he holds a secret.

And then she’s doing it again, typing his name into the search engine. There he is. Peeta Gramm Mellark. Owner of Coffee Co. She can’t decide if it’s simple or clever. His whole vibe is very minimalistic. Not that she cares about his vibe, because after all, she’s only interested in his food and his arms and the abs she suspects are hiding under that apron. It’s all she has the energy for, after all. Katniss doesn’t do long term.

Nothing turns up with her search and she decides to leave it there. A clean criminal record settles her mind enough to go on a date with him. She doesn’t really want to know what a deeper search turns up, at least not before dinner with the guy. And with their dinner quickly approaching, she sets aside the computer and heads back to the bakery.

It’s dark when she pulls in front of the brick building. Peeta’s shop is one of the few still lit up but the closed sign on the door deters any evening coffee addicts. She taps lightly on the door to get his attention and he pops up from behind the counter to let her in. Peeta is dressed differently than earlier. The dusty apron is gone and in its place, a soft gray sweater. 

“You look nice,” she says.

“So do you,” he replies, flashing that smile. “I was thinking I could cook something. Unless...you want to go out.”

“I don’t think I can eat anyone else’s food after trying yours,” she tells him.

“My apartment’s upstairs,” he tells her, speaking quickly, nervously. “If you’re comfortable with that. It’s just easier to cook up there plus I already cleaned the back and...I mean, I would love if we got there eventually, but I’m not trying to--”

“Let’s just do it.”

“What?”

“We both want to have sex tonight, right?” His eyes widen at her words. “Go on. Show me upstairs.”

Peeta doesn’t need to be told twice. Even in the half-lit room, flooded with darkness, Katniss can make out the grin on his face. His hand reaches for hers without a second thought and he slides an arm around her back to pull her close, leaning down for a soft kiss. She gives in, looping her arms around her neck and letting herself be swayed across the room until they’re flush against the wall, lips swollen from kisses.

“Upstairs,” she reminds him.

A laugh escapes his lips and he leads her behind the counter, through the grimy kitchen and up a narrow staircase. They climb two dark flights of stairs, arms clawing at each other in the dark until they finally reach the landing and Peeta scoops her up into his arms with a single motion. No warning, no grunting. The kind of move straight out of an epic romance that makes any girl feel weightless. 

She lands gently on the bed, cool sheets hugging her frame with the warmth from Peeta’s body lingering above her. His lips brush hers, desperate for heady kisses as his hands graze her shirt, instinctively drawing in her stomach with his touch. As if in a hurry, she sheds her heavy jacket and strips the thin shirt underneath.

Eagerly, Peeta buries his head in her chest, lavishing her breasts with wet kisses through the lace of her bra. They only part for a moment so he can remove his own sweater and then his mouth meets her skin once again. Katniss bucks her hips in response, reaching down to wrap her arms around his waist so his lips find their way back to hers.

She drinks his kisses like it’s last call and lets her hands roam, fingers brushing along the muscles she suspected were hidden under his chef’s apron. He does the same, warm, strong hands grasping at her flesh. 

“You should get a condom,” she says, gasping between kisses.

“Yeah,” Peeta’s response is equally out of breath.

It takes a few more prods from Katniss before he finally pries his lips from her soft skin and searches the nightstand for a condom. In the meantime, she kicks off her jeans and sits up, placing delicate kisses along his shoulder as he fiddles with the plastic. When he’s done, he turns to meet her lips once again, gently laying her back against the pillows and finding that delicate seam between her thighs. 

With a flat hand on her stomach, Peeta leans back. Katniss gasps as they’re separated but he stills her with a soft hush. His fingers dance lower down her abdomen, sliding beneath the elastic of her thong, prompting her to inhale sharply. She tries to help him get them off but they snag from the friction, only prolonging the desperate need to feel him. 

They come off finally but Peeta doesn’t give into her needs just yet. His hands slide to her waist once again. Gently, lovingly, he pulls her just a few inches closer so her feet land firmly against the floor. Slowly, he brings his mouth to her knee, kissing a trail along the inside of her thigh. She can only anticipate what comes next as he teases, legs shaking as he nears the sweet space at the apex of her thighs. 

She’s almost embarrassed by the sound that escapes her lips as his mouth connects with her wet flesh but as ecstasy floods her body all other emotion wanes. Her lips buck in response, squirming with every flick of his tongue and if it weren’t for the hand firmly gripping her waist, she might slide right off the bed. She strings a melody of moans to match each magical stroke of his tongue, crying for more until her wetness takes him in.

His mouth, slick with the taste of herself, leaves sloppy kisses along her jaw, inching its way back to her as they rock in unison. Desperate to feel the full depth of him, Katniss wraps her legs around his waist. It’s impossible to say how long they last like that, maybe seconds, maybe hours, until Katniss hears that ragged gasping into her ear. The wet kisses getting firmer, his grip tighter, fingers digging into her shoulders. Her own want building, tightening around him before they collapse into a heap of limbs.

Beads of sweat form along her skin as Katniss regains her breath, the heat of Peeta’s skin burning against hers. He rolls to his side, the breeze from an open window accentuating the newfound space between them. Slowly, his hand lands on her arm, raking his fingers along her skin. They stay like that for a moment but then the desperate need for water claws at her throat, rendering her mute, and Katniss rolls out from beneath his grasp, searching the darkness for her shirt and underwear.

“You’re leaving?” The hurt palpable in his voice. “I didn’t even make you dinner.”

“I just need water,” she croaks. “You want some?”

“Let me show you,” he says, rolling off the bed and grabbing his boxers from the floor.

He guides her through the narrow hall down a flight of stairs before illuminating the kitchen with a flick of the lights. It’s a sleek space with steel appliances and a long marble island big enough to seat four. To the left of it, she makes out a sofa and some chairs, still cloaked in darkness.

From a cabinet, Peeta procures two glass tumblers and fills them with water, presenting one to Katniss. They both drink in silence, quenching the thirst that only comes from passion. When she finally slams her glass down, with a deep sigh, their eyes meet and Peeta flashes a smile.

“You hungry?” he asks. 

She nods before excusing herself to use the restroom and when she reappears, hopping onto one of the bar stools, he’s rolling out dough on the marble counter. He tasks her with chopping basil, showing her how to slice it into thin, delicate strips. Dutifully, Katniss gets to work as Peeta pulls a pasta cutter from a drawer. With careful precision, he places spoonfuls of a cheesy mixture along the length of the dough and proceeds to slice it into perfect squares of ravioli that go into the pot of boiling water behind him.

With the pasta cooking, Peeta turns his attention to a saucepan brimming with cream and cheese. He works diligently, adding spices and stirring constantly. The sight of him, in just his boxers, cooking an entire Italian meal from scratch, makes Katniss hunger for more. Bravely she slides behind him, arms snaking around the width of his sturdy frame. A soft groan leaves his lips as he sinks into her embrace, revelling in the soft kisses she dusts along his arms. She can feel him soften in her arms, aching for her, before he finally shuts off the stove and turns around. In one move, he sweeps her up onto the counter and cups a hand beneath her head to scoop her into a kiss. 

And then his hands are everywhere, gripping the soft flesh of her thighs, pressed tightly to her back, exploring every inch of her as they devour each other with sweet kisses. Katniss feels herself craving him more with each kiss, desperate to have him again, but they’re interrupted when the water boils over, sending a cloud of steam in their direction. She laughs as he breaks the kiss to attend to their dinner. 

“We should eat,” he says. “It’s better warm.”

Reluctantly, she obliges but the aroma from the shallow bowl in her hand instantly sways all thoughts of sex. Five perfectly shaped raviolis sit in a creamy mushroom sauce, garnished with the sprigs of basil she had chopped. And when she bites into it, the whole thing tastes like heaven. Soft, pillowy dough that explodes with fresh cheese, spiced to perfection. She wonders if he even made that from scratch too. 

Peeta leans back, chewing each bite slowly, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. Katniss can’t stop staring. And then he stares back, that dreamy gaze melting into her own eyes. From her seat on the counter, her legs find their way between his, tangled beneath the ledge. Then there’s that smirk again, like he’s sharing a secret with her. His strong hand lands on her thigh, gently, rubbing his thumb along her skin. The motion sends a thousand pulses through her body and she’s craving him once again.

It’s like he’s reading her mind when Peeta pushes his plate to the side and with one swift move, scoops her onto his lap. A hand snakes behind her back, landing at her nape. Fingers tangled in her hair as lips come crashing together again. 

“I want you,” Katniss breathes after what feels like an eternity of kissing. 

His embrace tightens at her words and then she feels herself lifted into his arms as he carries her to the sofa. Gently, he lays her against the pillows. In the silence, her breath is heavy, anticipating his next move as he kneels down at her feet. Sliding her shirt up, Peeta plants both hands at her waist, leaning over to leave a trail of soft kisses along her waist. Her breath hitches as he inches down, dragging the waistband of her thong between his teeth. 

“Please,” she urges. 

He laughs through clenched teeth before sliding her panties the rest of the way off using a more traditional method. A hand slips between her clenched knees, slowly inching up her thighs until they fall open, inviting him. Katniss whimpers in response to the sudden breeze between her legs. Peeta remedies that. First one finger. Then two. 

She writhes beneath him, hands clawing at his arms, to feel him, desperate to close the gaping space between them. It feels like ages pass before Peeta finally brings his lips to hers once again. She aches for him, hips buckling forward until he replaces his fingers with something larger. Her response is a soft moan as she sinks deeper under the weight of him. Bodies rock in unison, every thrust one step closer to quenching the blaze between them. 

It’s been so long she forgot what it was like to kiss someone, even more someone who hadn’t had a chance to let her down yet. Peeta is new, unknown, a mystery. He is strong, sweet, a good kisser and that’s about all she wants to know about him. Oh, and also he’s great at sex. She literally comes to that conclusion moments before his arms give out and he lands at her side. 

As they lie there, heat radiating from skin touching skin, she realizes this is the perfect moment. She turns her head and presses a soft kiss to his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart as he comes to. A long silence falls between them and when Katniss finally moves to get up, his grip tightens around her waist.

“Stay.” His voice tickles her cheek. “Just another minute.”

She wants to. Against every instinct in her being she wants to spend eternity wrapped in his arms. For a moment she lets herself imagine waking up with him, the pastries he’d bake, sex on the countertop with the soundtrack of sizzling bacon. It could be so impossibly perfect. Or it could spiral and shatter into a million pieces like every other relationship she’s ever witnessed built on deception and lies.

“I really need to go.”

She slides out from his grasp, collecting her scattered clothes through two stories of apartment, pocketing the bra because she simply can’t bother with it. Peeta trails behind, flipping on lights, offering a ride home, practically begging for her to stay a little longer. And then they’re standing in the pitch black kitchen of the bakery, Katniss fiddling with the collection of locks on the back door.

“Hold on.” 

Peeta reaches for her arm, spinning her around to face him. His free hand cups her cheek and he leans down to plant one last, perfect kiss on her lips. It lasts a moment but Katniss suspects she’ll remember that moment forever.

“At least let me know when I’ll see you again,” he pleads.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

With those parting words she finally grasps the right latch and disappears into darkness.


End file.
